E-Paper
Spice of life | Church visits down memory lane ring in Christmas cheer
In Melbourne, I frequented the church facing the busy Flinders Street station. In a flash, the church would fill me with the tranquillity I needed and hence there were evenings, when after a hectic day of exploring, all roads led towards it
Last December when I was driving in my hometown, Amritsar, I happened to cross St Paul’s Church on Court Road, bathed so beautifully in Christmas lights. I slowed down, telling myself to head in. As expected, the visit transported me to a different world. The architecture, furniture, artworks all spoke a language of their own, and as I looked up to its high ceiling, I wondered why I had never explored this beautiful church earlier.
While my eyes followed plaques on the walls around, an elderly gentleman joined me for an erudite chat. “When the British ruled, they built this church exclusively for themselves. For the public, they constructed another one at Ram Bagh called Christ’s Church,” he said.
Curious, the following morning, I was at the church again. As I took a seat to offer prayers, an array of church visits from my globetrotting experience came to mind. In fact, stepping into churches during my travels is one of my favourite rituals. Most of them being several centuries old, once inside, I feel connected to the roots of the place I am visiting. For me, besides places of worship, churches are museums unfolding so much. But, I equally adore, simply sitting there to observe and meditate in the exceptional silence. Of course, how magically, they pluck you away from the daily grind.
In Melbourne, I frequented the church facing the busy Flinders Street station almost every morning as I stepped out of the noisy train, after an hour-long journey, from a suburb where I lived with my cousin for a month, some years ago. In a flash, the church would fill me with the tranquillity I needed and hence there were evenings, when after a hectic day of exploring, all roads led towards it.
During my three-week trip to New York some summers ago, I was a habitué of its most famous, St Patrick’s, located on its most famous Fifth Avenue. There I took many breaks from my long walks and always admired looking at tourists like me, especially how they would take pictures, trying to capture every nook. During my recent visit to New York, in September, I visited it again, on my first day. I was reminded of my many moments there and within a New York minute, I wrote in my diary: “A beautiful experience at St Patrick’s Cathedral, around 6pm of September 14, just after the long tour at the UN on the First Avenue. The spiritual music in the background is unique. Like always, tourists around and this time some security guards, too.”
More than a decade ago, when I lived in Switzerland’s Lucerne for three years as a student, I proceeded to the Jesuit church near college, particularly when homesick. There, I would feel soothed, and sometimes as though I met my parents. I also contemplated deeply and got answers to hard questions about life. With no Sikh temple in town, it was a place of peace for me.
In Milan, my church visit offered me the most unexpected surprise. I visited its globally known Duomo di Milano, as recommended by a Milan local on the train from Lucerne. There the cathedral allowed worshippers to climb its grand rooftop, which presented me with the best panoramic views of this gorgeous Italian city. Up there, some were reading books, some simply sunbathing and some lost in the views like me. I stayed up for hours, waiting for the sun to set. It became mesmerising during the sunset and I kept thinking about the entire experience during my train journey the same night to Venice. Of course, I must have excitedly talked about it with my co-passengers.
As Christmas approaches, I can visualise all churches I visited tastefully decorated for ’tis the season to celebrate. rameshinder.sandhu@gmail.com
The writer is a Chicago-based freelance contributor
